


A Re-Telling of The Fellowship of the Ring

by OspreyW



Series: A Retelling of the Lord of the Rings [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aragorn Angst, Canon Divergence - The Lord of the Rings, Fellowship of the Ring, Follows the plot, Not Canon Compliant, POV!Reader, Protective Gimli, Protective Legolas Greenleaf, Return of the King, The Lord of the Rings References, The Two Towers, long story, multi chaptered, only slightly, the lord of the rings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:53:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OspreyW/pseuds/OspreyW
Summary: You are a young woman Ranger who travels through the wilderness of Middle Earth. You are not very well known, and you plan to keep it that way. There was no need to draw attention to yourself. One day you come across a couple of Hobbits who seem to have gotten themselves into a bit of trouble. Curiosity and chivalry get the better of you and you decide to help them reach Bree and go on your merry way back to isolated traveling. At least, that was the plan before being sucked into a journey across Middle Earth with newfound friends on your way to Mount Doom in order to destroy an evil fiery eyeball named Sauron.Follows the plot of the movie with slight canon divergence.Posting new chapters every Wednesday:) (or whenever I feel like it)
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel & Gimli (Son of Glóin) & Legolas Greenleaf, Aragorn | Estel & Legolas Greenleaf, Aragorn | Estel & Reader, Aragorn | Estel/Reader, Frodo Baggins & Gandalf | Mithrandir, Frodo Baggins & Merry Brandybuck & Sam Gamgee & Pippin Took, Gimli (Son of Glóin) & Legolas Greenleaf, Gimli (Son of Glóin) & Reader, Legolas Greenleaf & Reader, The Fellowship of the Ring & Reader
Series: A Retelling of the Lord of the Rings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714153
Comments: 13
Kudos: 72





	1. The Old Forest

**Author's Note:**

> You know that thing people do when they watch a movie and then they make their own character and insert themselves into the story? Yeah that’s basically what this is. This is my character on her journey with the Fellowship! But, this is your journey too. Have fun meeting the Hobbits!

It was a quiet path you followed. The trees of the forest around you were of a lighter color, and creaked in the gentle breeze that passed through them and rustled their leaves.  
Streaks of sunlight filtered through the canopy and you lifted your face towards it, feeling your skin warm from the splashes of light.  
The dirt path beneath your boots was worn and easy to follow through the heavy brush on either side. This was an old path. A path that had been tred on by many a traveler on their ways to various destinations.  
A careful observation of the various vegetation and flowers growing in the brush led you to believe you were passing through the region of Eriador. Shouldering the bag on your back, you stopped for a moment and brought a hand to your chin, trying to recall your previous movements.  
The town of Tharbad had been slightly underwhelming, but you smiled in memory of your times in the taverns.  
You had sauntered away with a bloody nose and a blackened eye, but the grisly man who challenged you had been dragged to an infirmary to be treated for several broken and torn parts. Poor lout. Should have known better than to yell obscenities at a lady.  
You moved your hand and ran it through the top of your hair then down the length of the braid on your shoulder.  
In the wilderness of Tharbad, you had lifted your hand to the wind and followed its direction heading North on the Greenway.  
That had been weeks ago. There were whispers of a settlement along the Brandywine River, but you supposed you were moving around it. That would leave you in...  
Surprise rocked through you as you quickly moved your eyes to re evaluate your surroundings.  
You were in the Old Forest, the source of many tales of woe. Tales of the trees remembering creatures of the past hurting it’s forests, and taking revenge on anyone who dared brave it’s wilderness.  
You glanced behind you at the tall trees still swaying in the breeze. Your journey through it had been peaceful. Your hunting had been easy, and rest had come uninterrupted.  
You stepped to the trunk closest to you and rested a hand on its rough bark. It was a tall tree with roots that snaked out into the dirt of the path. Moss grew in between the cracks of the bark, and vines fell lazily from the tall canopy. This was an old tree. Ancient, even.  
A deep creaking sounded in response to your touch. It was echoed throughout the woods. Perhaps in a greeting, you thought to yourself. Kinship fluttered in your chest, an indescribable tie between the soul of the trees and your own. Like calls to like, you suppose.  
You breathed a sign through your nose, scattering your thoughts as you continued on down the worn path, the trees now looming a little taller. 

————————————————————-

The shadows grew as the day came to an end. Your thoughts were empty as you slowed your pace and began looking for a clearing to stay the night. You listened to the breeze filter through the leaves. It grew louder as the breeze built to a gust. Then it stopped. Everything stopped. You froze midway through a step, the sudden silence of the forest a clear warning. That’s when you heard it.  
Clear as day, the unmistakable whispers of something otherworldly. Cold snaked down your spine as you slipped into the brush, your movements swift and silent.  
The path had rested on an uphill slope, and you carefully made your way down the steep drop to the forest ground. Creeping forward, a cold determination settled over your mind as your hand wrapped around the hilt of your sword.  
It would seem trouble had found you in the Old Forest after all.  
Cloaked in black and sitting atop an almost ethereal black steed, trying to pass as anything but otherworldly was laughable. The Wraith was disguised as a Black Rider, but the shadows seemingly emulating from under its cloak was fooling no one.  
A sudden realization settled over you as it slid off it’s dark horse and landed with a dull thud, the ground seeming to quiver in response. It was looking for something. No... hunting. A shiver laced down your spine, your eyes tracking its measured steps towards the edge of the path. It leaned down, looking out into the clearing below. It crouched next to a tall tree with roots hanging over the side of the steep downhill, providing an almost cliff... and a perfect hiding spot below.  
The forest had grown dark, for this was a creature it did not want in it’s woods. The Wraith radiated what could only be described as an unnatural wrongness. The boughs of trees and the branches of brush seemed to wither and droop in the Wraith’s presence.  
It looked out into the forest, searching for it’s hidden prey. Tension grew with each passing second, not only in you, but it seemed the forest itself was holding it’s breath.  
You had yet to draw your sword, the noise alone would give away your presence. You weighed your options and kept your eyes fixed on the dark creature.  
Turn around, leave. Not your problem, not your fight. The Wraith alone, you could take. But they never traveled alone. You knew it’s monstrous companions had to be lurking somewhere close by. And then there was it’s prey. What terrible thing had caught the attention of a Wraith? It could be any kind of creature... maybe more than capable of fending it off. If you attacked the Wraith, it’s prey might turn on you as well.  
Your other option... fight. It was not what you had been taught to do, despite being thoroughly taught how. And yet, it was what your instincts were roaring at you to do. The blood in your veins was already beginning to pump faster with the adrenaline of a battle. Your hand gripped the hilt of your sword a little tighter. What if the thing being hunted by the Wraith was innocent? What if they needed help? You could not abandon them to the terror of the Wraiths.  
With your decision made, your muscles tensed to propel you towards monster and...  
... and you didn’t so much as twitch before a large disturbance in the woods several yards away from the tree had the Wraith tearing off in it’s direction with a withering hiss. A mis-direction... how clever, you thought as you settled back on your haunches.  
Four small figures darted out from under the cover of the tree. Springing into action, you followed them, moving through the brush as silently as if a shadow cast by the four figures crashing through the trees.  
Really, they were quite loud.  
You drew closer, moving as quickly as you could without making noise. They weren’t moving very fast, with their heights being no taller than that of children. A glance to your side as you raced besides them revealed their faces. Hobbits! What in Eru Ilvúvatar’s name had four Hobbits done to have Wraiths on their tails?  
The group slowed to a stop before another path in the woods, and took refuge behind trees and in the brush, you crouching as well.  
Despite the rising direness of the situation, you couldn’t help the amusement that bubbled in you and threatened to topple out in a laugh. It was quite humorous to watch them... they clearly thought they were sneaky.  
Between the noise of their racing through the trees, and their heads continuously popping out from their various hiding places to observe the Wraiths, it was a miracle they hadn’t been found yet. Your amusement died as quickly as it had come. There was another Wraith on the trail. It’s form atop it’s dark steed was illuminated by the rising moon.  
The Wraith observed its surroundings for a few unmoving moments before moving on, unaware of it’s quarry now scurrying across the trail. They stopped in a small clearing, you far enough away to be out of earshot. Unfortunately that meant they were out of yours as well.  
They seemed to have an exchange before simultaneously continuing into the woods. They clearly had a destination. You moved with them, keeping enough distance to not alert them to your presence, but not too far away to be unable to aide them if attacked.  
Your eyes swept through the trees around you, carefully monitoring for any movement. Your attention was caught by the slight uphill you and the Hobbits had began to climb. Your gut dropped as you neared the top. Heart pumping, your hand once again wrapping around the hilt of your sword as you sensed the growing darkness over the crest of the hill and prepared for what you knew lay beyond it.  
You moved closer to the hobbits as you rounded the top, and sure enough, the long and rearing legs of a dark horse shot out at the small group. The Wraith screeched, knowing it had caught its prey. But it had underestimated the size of the hobbits, or overestimated, as they dodged the kicking of the horse and parted around it. One even ran through the legs!  
You were nearing the Wraith, your hand just beginning to pull on your hilt when one of the hobbits was separated from the others. The Wraith had rounded on him, forcing him to back away from it while the others continued to run on.  
“Run! This way, follow me! Run!” Came the frantic shouting from one of the hobbits.  
They had come across a fence, and quickly hopped over it, making their way to a river below.  
The hobbit now facing the Wraith stood looking up to it, his face twisted in terror. Wiping your mind of any traces of fear, a jolt of excitement ripped through you as you reached the Wraith with your sword finally drawn. You pushed the hobbit past the horse but he stopped just clear of it and looked back on you in shock.  
The Wraith’s attention now on you, you shouted,  
“MOVE!” To the hobbit as you used the momentum of your run to slide underneath the legs of the horse, slicing at its legs as you went.  
You shot up, just clear of it’s rearing form. A wicked sense of pride settled into you at the successful maneuver and you fell into a sprint behind the hobbit. You cleared the fence at the same time, but you made sure to stay behind the small figure, taking the opportunity of a slowed pace to glance behind you at the Wraith.  
It was nearing the fence as you moved away. The horse cleared it easily despite the blood now leaking from its lower legs.  
The moment over, you mentally cringed and fought off the guilt of the injury to the horse. It’s undead... It doesn’t feel it, you assured yourself. It didn’t really help, it wasn’t the animals fault it’s rider was a monstrous creature trying to kill you and a couple of harmless hobbits.  
Nearing the dock that jutted out into the river, you realized the small raft the hobbits were afloat on had already drifted a distance from the dock. It was a jump you could make with mild effort, but for the hobbit beside you, it was near impossible.  
His friends seemed to realize the same, even as their eyes darted between you, him, and the Wraith now gaining on you based off of the sounds of it’s hooves pounding against the earth.  
They all shouted various encouragements as the two of you reached the dock. Earth turned to wood as you took longer strides, preparing to jump. But that is not what was occupying your thoughts as you mentally turned your attention to the short male beside you. Frodo, as the shouting hobbits called him. He mirrored your movements, lengthening his strides and crouching lower as he neared the end of the dock.  
As you both pushed off the dock, you closed your eyes and felt a familiar spark along the opened palm of your outstretched arm. A hard gust of wind met your backs, propelling you forward.  
Frodo landed at the edge of the raft, the other hobbits gripping his arms and other extremities in an attempt to steady his landing. You landed towards the far end of the raft as lightly as you could in an effort to not rock the raft too much. You sank to a crouch, an arm slung over the short railings of the raft, your other hand sheathing your sword.  
The four hobbits stood facing each other, taking deep breaths and seemingly gathering their thoughts after the adrenaline filled chase.  
Your attention was turned to the Wraith that simply stared at the raft, now a safe distance from the dock. You paused to listen to Frodo ask,  
“How far to the nearest crossing?” The hobbit with curly hair covering his brow answered in a thick accent,  
“Brandywine Bridge: Twenty miles.”  
Deeming the distance good enough, you turned your mind to other things, giving the hobbits a moment of thought.  
You mentally measured the distance you had jumped, and took a moment to appreciate your handiwork with the wind.  
It had been so long since you tried anything like that... you were honestly surprised it worked.  
With that last thought you finally stood and faced the hobbits who were now turning their wide eyes in your direction.  
“So, where are we going?” You asked as causally as you could manage.  
The one who had spoke of Brandywine Bridge now demanded,  
“Who are you?!”


	2. The Barrow Downs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crossing the Barrow Downs seems easy enough... too bad it’s going to take a whole week to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that thing people do when they watch a movie and then they make their own character and insert themselves into the story? Yeah that’s basically what this is. This is my character on her journey with the Fellowship! But, this is your journey too. Have fun crossing the Barrow Downs!

“Who are you?!” Demanded one of the hobbits. The five of you were standing atop a raft slowly drifting to the far river bank and away from the pursuing Wraiths.   
The four hobbits were still breathing heavily, their already small forms sagging in exhaustion and weariness. Their eyes were all wide and struggling between apprehension of you and confusion of your presence. Poor things, they had probably never run for their lives before. You knew they were scared, and in dire need of light hearted-ness. So, you narrowed your eyes in mock suspicion, craned your neck in their direction and countered,  
“Who are you?”   
They’re eyes only widened by your lack of an answer, and the one with longer hair grew indignant, looking you up and down and curling his hands into fists,  
“We asked first, lady.” You shrugged and sat on the raft, your legs bent in front of you and your arms draped across your knees.  
“That’s fair.” Your tone and posture conveyed casualty. You told them your name and began tightening the strap that held the sheath to your sword. It had come loose during the action. You continued,  
“I was making my way through that forest,” you pointed in the direction from which you came, the trees now becoming distant, “when I came across one of the Wraiths that were hunting you.” You paused for a moment to allow this to settle with the group before stating,  
“You’re turn.” They looked to each other before the one with long hair stepped forward.  
“I’m Pippin Took.”  
“Merry Brandybuck.” This one bowed to you with his declaration. Eccentric, these two were.  
“Frodo Baggins.” Came the quiet response from the hobbit you had jumped onto the raft with. His eyes did not meet yours, but you could still see the fear swimming in them. Whether is was fear of you or remnant from his close encounter with the Wraiths, you couldn’t tell. Then came the even quieter,   
“Samwise Gamgee, ma’am.” He failed to look at you as he spoke as well, though he continuously glanced at Frodo with growing concern. Shifting your attention to the more lively hobbits, you asked,  
“And where is it we’re going?” Both Merry and Pippin’s brows knit together, and a shared glance between them had the former saying slowly,  
“No offense, Miss, but you weren’t exactly invited.” Pippin added,  
“Why would you even want to come?” Of this, you weren’t quite sure yourself. Why did you want to go with them? The Wraiths were a safe distance away, you had no obligation to them. And yet you couldn’t help but feel as if you had been meant to find them. You scanned the group again, gathering your thoughts before answering,  
“Honestly, I have nothing better to do.” With that, even Frodo and Sams eyes shot to yours, searching for the seriousness of your statement. You explained,  
“I guess you would call me a sort of Ranger. I live in the wilderness, going where I please. There is nowhere I need to be, no destination to which I am traveling. Most of the time I follow the direction of the wind,” you paused to raise your hand into the breeze, feeling the direction of the draft, “I like to think it guides me to where I need to go. And it led me to you. I’m where I want to be.” Dropping your hand, you once again looked to each of the hobbits, settling your eyes on the one called Frodo.  
“So, where are we going?”

—————————————————————

“What do you mean you’ve never been to Bree before? You’re a Ranger, aren’t you?” Pippin asked incredulously as the two of you as well as Merry pulled the raft up onto the shore, Frodo and Sam already walking the short distance off of the sanded bank and onto grass.   
“Not being to Bree doesn’t discredit me as a Ranger. Have you ever been to Rhûn? Or the Bay of Belfalas? I don’t think so.” With your pointed statement you turned on your heels and crossed the distance between you and the the other two hobbits. They both were looking over the hills of Barrow Downs. Merry and Pippin scrambled to keep up with you.   
“Everybody knows hobbits don’t leave the Shire.” Pippin declared. Apparently, this was common knowledge as Merry nodded his agreement with the grave seriousness of scrunched brows and eyes turned towards the horizon. You felt a tug at the hem of your right sleeve and looking down you saw Samwise hanging onto it. His eyes remained fixed on the hills as he asked,   
“Where are we Ma’am?” You shifted your gaze towards the hills as well, completing a swift sweep of the surrounding territory before gravely responding,   
“The Barrow Downs. Hills filled with the graves of many Dunedain. Come along, we’re heading East. If we move fast we should be able to reach Bree in a week or so, and avoid the-“ you cut your sentence short, remembering the hobbits general lack of a fighting spirit. Shouldn’t have said anything, you mentally scolded yourself.   
Slowly, each of the hobbits turned towards you.   
“Avoid what?” Sam rasped, his small hand now fully wrapped around your wrist. It was quite endearing, actually. You reached your other arm over and gently pat his hand, assuring,  
“Nothing to get worried over. There are stories I’ve heard of spirits walking these hills, but that’s all they are. Stories.” They weren’t. But the hobbits didn’t need to know that. They were said to be scarce enough that those who dared seek out these spirits would have to go looking for them. You didn’t intend to.

————————————————————-

The hills of the Barrow Downs were small, but numerous enough that crossing the field was tiresome. Despite the burning that had steadily been building in the muscles of your legs, you kept a swift pace.   
Hours past as your group continuously climbed and then walked down hill after hill. Days came and went. Still, you walked.  
At night, you found shelter in various land forms. You stayed watch for the majority of the nights, only resting when the Hobbits would promise to all stay up together. That only ever lasted a few hours. Needless to say, it was an exhausting journey.  
On the fourth day, Merry and Pippin, both of whom had been slowly falling behind for the past few hours, stopped completely. Their breathing was labored, and as you glanced behind you you saw their small forms leaning over, arms grabbing onto the other.   
While you were no expert on the physiology of hobbits, you knew the signs of genuine exhaustion. This was exaggeration.   
Rolling your eyes, you leaned onto one side and placed a hand on your hip. Twisting your torso to face the two hobbits, you raised a pointed brow and sent a glowering look in their direction. Merry met your stare and in between exaggerated breaths demanded,  
“Give, us, a moment, to breath, woman.” A soft huffing laugh escaped your lips before clamping them together and resuming your previous stance.   
They didn’t budge. Exasperated, you fully turned towards them and glanced up at the hill behind them. Staring above their heads and fear creeping into your eyes, you gasped,  
“Is that a...” They didn’t even look behind them before dashing behind you and up to the next ridge. They turned to see the monster that was behind them, terror written on their faces, which immediately fell to indignation as they beheld the smirk gracing your features.  
“That’s not funny!” Pippin snapped. With sarcasm dripping from your voice, you responded,   
“Oh but look! Your ability to breath has magically returned!” Merry’s eyes narrowed, fixing you with a scowl before grumbling,  
“You’re wicked, woman.”  
“Oh,” you assured them, “the worst.”   
Frodo and Sam had stopped a short distance ahead of you and you could see the humored smiles spread across Samwise and Frodo’s faces. You noticed they faded almost as soon as you resumed your trek.   
Whatever their purpose was in going to Bree and whatever reason the Wraiths have for hunting them was connected, of that you were sure. You hadn’t asked yet, mainly focusing on small talk and stories of your travels. But the stark contrast between the shaken, but light hearted nature of Merry and Pippin versus the solemn and grave expressions seemingly permanently branded on Samwise and Frodo’s faces led you to believe the eccentric hobbits may be as ignorant to the purpose of this journey as you were.   
Of course, you thought, this may just be due to a difference in personalities. Continuing your inner train of thought, you knew that despite the fact you had never previously met a hobbit, you had heard of their merry natures and light hearted attitudes. No... the knowledge of their quest was clearly a burden on Samwise and Frodo.   
The two of them had remained steady during your hike across the Barrow Downs. The trek clearly a drain on their energy, but they did not slow, and kept their eyes to the horizon, as if peering all the way to Bree.   
Leaving Merry and Pippin to their conversation of the complexities of smoking various leaves, you briefly quickened your pace to walk in between the hobbits ahead of you. Looking to start a conversation, you drawled,  
“So...” They both spared quick glances at you before fixing them once again in the direction of your destination. This was pretty much how you conversations with them for the past few days had gone. You continued,   
“If it’s true that hobbits never leave the Shire, what is you do that is so entertaining that you stay?” The question clearly took the hobbits by surprise. Frodo took a moment to think while Samwise began explaining,  
“Well, Ma’am, the most of us have jobs like any other place, ya see, and those that don’t still do work around the Shire. There’s always something to do.”   
“So what is it you do?”  
“I’m a gardener, Ma’am. Actually,” he chuckled to himself and gestured to Frodo before continuing, “I’m his gardener. I know it doesn’t seem like particularly exciting work, but-“ He trailed off, his eyes moving to the ground. You shrugged and said,   
“I always thought of gardeners as sort of guardians.” When his head shot up to look at you in surprise, you explained,  
“In my opinion it really is quite intense. A constant struggle between the survival of the plant you’re trying to grow and the weeds that are constantly trying to choke it out,” you mimed a squeezing motion with your hands, “and without you to rip out the weeds, the plant would die. And so, Samwise Gamgee, protector of plants, I do think gardening is exciting.” His eyes had grown wide by the end of your explanation, and his head dipped before meeting your eyes and saying quietly,   
“Oh, you can call me Sam.” You smiled brightly at him in return before turning to Frodo. He noticed your change in attention and admitted,  
“Oh I don’t do much. I read mostly.” And thus began an extensive discussion over different books he had read. His favorite books, the books he didn’t like, and the books you recommended to him based off his preferences.   
The day passed quickly. You were getting close enough to Bree that you felt it was safe enough to continue on through the night. This was, of course, met with grumbling from Merry and Pippin that was dutifully ignored by you.  
It was a long night. But as the Sun rose, you knew it had been worth it. Merry and Pippin had made the mistake of asking Sam about his gardening, and he had been rambling about that particular topic for the past few hours. The three of them had dropped behind to a slower pace, leaving you and Frodo side by side in the front.  
“Frodo...” you began, “may I ask your purpose in going to Bree?” You weren’t entirely sure if he would answer or not. You had slowly built up relationships with each of the hobbits. Merry and Pippin had been much quicker to trust you than Sam or Frodo, but they had both eventually warmed up to you. He considered for a moment before answering,  
“I’m meeting a wizard there. He told me to go.” Okay. That wasn’t really an answer. You tried again,   
“Why were the Wraiths after you?” He seemed more reluctant to answer, and instead asked,  
“How close are we to Bree?”   
“Not far at all. We’ll be there by nightfall.” He turned his wide eyes to yours, eyes swimming with anxiety.  
“Do you intend to stay with us?”  
“Well, no. Not if your meeting a wizard. You won’t need me if you have a wizard.” He considered your answer for a moment. Slowly, he drew an object from his pocket.  
“I was given this.” he showed you a small golden ring in his hand and you examined it. It didn’t look like much. It was plain. No gems, no engravings, no markings of any kind. So you were quite surprised when you moved your face closer and the ring seemed to hum in response. You shot back from it, eyes widening as you began to hear it whisper. Realization dawned on you and the sheer gravity of this quest came to your attention.   
“Did the wizard tell you to give the ring to him?” You hissed. Frodo shook his head, assuring,  
“He’s my friend. I offered it to him but he refused it. He said it was my duty to carry it.”   
“Do you know what it is?” Frodo slowly nodded his head, solemnity knotting his features. You breathed a heavy sigh through your nose before whispering to yourself with an almost reverence,  
“‘One ring to rule them all.’” As you crested another hill, the walls of Bree came into view a distance away. Dread was slowly worming it’s way through your gut, the thought of the ring in Frodo’s pocket now weighing heavily on your consciousness. What in the name of Eru Ilvúvatar have you gotten yourself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah ha ha ha did you guy’s know that even though the movie cuts from the hobbits in the old forest straight to them arriving at Bree.... it took them SIX DAYS to get there??? Cause I didn’t. Until I finished writing the chapter and then looked at a timeline. 
> 
> Oh well. Merry and Pippin are fun to write about :)


	3. The Prancing Pony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To absolutely no ones surprise, you run into trouble at the tavern. “Trouble” being a dark stranger sitting in the corner of the tavern smoking a pipe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that thing people do when they watch a movie and then they make their own character and insert themselves into the story? Yeah that’s basically what this is. This is my character on her journey with the Fellowship! But, this is your journey too. Have fun Meeting Strider!

No sooner had you and your company found the path to the gates of Bree than it began to rain. As with most storms, what started as a harmless mist steadily built to an utter downpour that had all of you practically running towards the gate. 

You pounded the wood, noting the relative unsteadiness of it. You turned to survey the landscape behind you, the hood you had pulled over your head against the rain making it hard to see in your peripheral vision. The four hobbits had huddled together behind you, their faces were turned down away from the rain but their eyes remained fixed on the gate. 

You turned as you heard the creaking of a hatch opening. Not seeing you, the hatch closed and one closer to the ground opened, perfectly eye level with Frodo.

“What do you want?” Came the gravely voice of the gatekeeper. Frodo answered, his voice slightly raised to combat the pounding of the rain,

“We’re heading for the Prancing Pony.” Surprise lit the eyes of the gatekeeper as he surveyed the group, again missing you. He mused,

“Hobbits! Four hobbits. What business brings you to Bree?” Pushing back his shoulders, Frodo straightened his back and lifted his head, answering,

“We wish to stay at the inn,” adding defensively, “our business is our own.” 

“Alright young sir, I meant no offense. ‘It’s my job to ask questions after nightfall. There’s talk of strange folk abroad. Can’t be too careful.” The gate swung open. Stepping through, you paused in front of the old man, the hobbits shuffling in past you.

“What strange folk do you speak of?” You had also heard whisperers of a growing presence in the Far East, but no one seemed to know what it was. Unsurprisingly, he only shrugged.

“It’s merely been talk, m’lady. If you are truly curious, ask around town. Many travelers stay here.” He drew breath to speak again, most likely questioning your intentions, but you had already turned away, walking fast to catch up to the hobbits who were making their way down the narrow street. At least, they were trying too.

It was a crowded street. Even in the dead of night, it was bustling with activity and noise. The hobbits were doing a fairly good job of weaving in between the carts and the people. Trying to keep an eye on all four of the small figures was proving difficult as they continuously ducked and bobbed in and out of sight. 

Your anxiety was beginning to grow. It would be so easy to lose one of them in this crowd. The men and women who noticed the hobbits pulled the same curious and surprised expressions. You began to develop a system of keeping track of the hobbits... follow the strange looks. Frodo came into view in the middle of the cobbled street, just as a man on a cart being pulled by a horse was making his way in the opposite direction. You jumped forward, grabbing onto to his sleeve and pulling him to the side before he could come face first with the wooden wagon.

“Watch where you’re going!” Called the man, shaking his fist. Glancing up at you, Frodo gave a weak smile and once again began walking up the street. 

A few minutes later you came across the Prancing Pony. You counted the hobbits as they shuffled through the door, all accounted for. Once inside, you stepped to the side and leaned back against the wall next to the exit. 

As soon as the hobbits find their wizard, you’re leaving, you thought to yourself. 

The hobbits had a brief exchange with the man behind the counter. Your heart sank as their faces turned graven. Frodo spun towards you, a very worried expressions across his face. 

Being careful not to let the sinking feeling in your gut show, you pushed yourself off the wall and came to stand next to the hobbits.

“What’s the problem?” You inquired, purposefully making your voice light. Frodo answered, disappointment heavy in his voice,

“He’s not here.”

“Who? The wizard?” The hobbits all nodded their confirmation. 

Muttering something about wizards and unreliability, you took hold of Frodo’s hand and led him into the tavern, trusting the others to follow.

“He’s probably on his way. I will wait with you,” turning your face towards the the hobbits behind you, you added with a wink, “but you’re buying.” It was meant as a joke to lighten the mood, but you realized it had been the wrong thing to say and Merry and Pippins faces lit up with the promise of a drink. 

—————————————————————

Finding a spot in the middle of the room for a good view of the rest of the tavern, you sat and pushed the hood off of your head. The hobbits took up their seats and began wringing their clothes of rain water. 

Sitting across from you, Sam and Frodo were murmuring to each other. You were beginning to think the worried looks their faces were permanent. Sam was slowly surveying the room, taking note of the suspicious glances from strangers at the same time as you. Frodo sat leaning forward with his shoulders facing inwards. His eyes darted about the room, never focusing on one area for too long. Merry and Pippin, on the other hand, were having the time of their lives. 

Merry had left to find himself a drink, and the distant growl of, 

“Get out of my way.”, marked his return. Sitting at the table, he set a pint of liquor down with reverence, awe in his eyes. Pippin, the same reverence mirrored in his expression whispered,

“What’s that?” His eyes never leaving his new treasure, Merry answered,

“This, my friend, is a  pint. ” 

“It comes in pints?” Pippin asked incredulously. Then declaring,

“I’m getting one.” Before shooting up from where he sat and rushing to the bar, various curses from tavern-goers trailed in his wake. 

“You had a whole half already!” Called Sam, but to no avail. He was already out of ear shot. 

You breathed a soft laugh, humor lightening your mood. But not Sams. He turned back to his own mug, glancing at the corner of the tavern, eyeing the dark figure who sat there alone. 

“That fellows done nothin’ but starin’ at us since we arrived.” He gestured towards the man in the corner. You had marked him before you even sat down.

“Good eye, Sam.” You appraised him. The inn Keeper was walking by them, and Frodo took hold of the man, asking,

“Excuse me, that man in the corner, who is he?” The man glanced at the figure, his hooded face briefly illuminated by the embers of his smoke. Leaning down, the man informed,

“He’s one of them rangers. Dangerous folk they are— all wandering the wilds. What his right name is I’ve never heard but around here, he’s known as Strider.” The man ambled away as the hobbits looked to you, questions in their eyes. You rolled yours before speaking,

“‘Dangerous,” you scoffed, waving your hand, “Rangers are only dangerous if they’re assholes. As for Strider, I’ve never heard of him. But he doesn’t exactly give me warm feelings.” You stood, taking steps away from the table before Merry caught your arm, and pulled you closer to him.

“Where are you going, Lady? You’re not goin to talk to him, are ye?” Gently tugging your arm free, you assured him,

“No, I’m going to ask the inn keeper about rooms for the night. I won’t go far,” moving your eyes to look at all the hobbits you sternly added, “stay here. Don’t move. Don’t do anything. I’m not going far, I’ll still be able to keep my eye on you. Understood?” They nodded their agreement as you leaned away from Merry and walked towards the inn keeper. 

A few men bumped into you along the way, one or two of them drunkenly whistling their appreciation. Keeping your head high and a scowl on your face, most people steered clear and moved out of your way. 

You weren’t even able to talk to the inn keeper before a commotion in the common room drew your attention. Of course, it was your hobbits. Frodo had cried out and was rushing towards the bar where Pippin stood, talking with strangers. You were already moving towards them yourself. Frodo grabbed onto Pippin who called with alarm,

“Steady on!” A crowd had began to gather around them, blocking your way to the hobbits. Shouldering through, you pushed towards them and as they came into view, Frodo slipped on a mans boot and began to fall backwards.

Almost in slow motion, the ring flew upwards and began to fall with Frodo. Keeping your eyes on the rings, you rushed closer, but before you could get there, before Frodo even hit the ground, the ring fell impossibly onto his outstretched hand and Frodo disappeared! 

A collective gasp came from those who had been watching the altercation. You stopped short of where you had seen him fall, leaning down to look for any traces of him.

That was impossible, you thought to yourself. Looking around, you still couldn’t see him. Panic began to set in as you realized the other three hobbits had disappeared as well. 

You spun on your heels, carefully looking around the tavern. You stopped cold, looking at the corner where Strider had been sitting. He was gone. 

There! In the corner of your eye you saw theheads of the hobbits disappearing up the stairs of the tavern leading to the boarding rooms. You prowled towards the stairs, drawing the knife you kept hidden in the many pockets of your gear. Grim determination settled over you. You prepared yourself for the scene that awaited at the top of the stairs. The hobbits being threatened, the hobbits trying to protect the ring from the ranger, the hobbits already run through by Striders blade. Fury, cold and hard, raced through you as you reached the top of the stairs.

Crouching, you moved your knife into an attacking position and made your way silently through the hall. You briefly stopped at each door to listen for the voices of your hobbits. Taking measured breaths, you neared the last few doors, and as you came to the end of the hallway, you heard them. Without hesitation, you leaned back and threw all your weight into the kick you sent driving into the wood next to lock on the door. It flew open.

You rushed in, heart pounding as you locked eyes with Strider, noting the hobbits that stood around him. Surging towards him, your knife lifted, you prepared to make your first attack and— and the hobbits moved in front of you, their arms reaching up to stop you in your tracks and alarmed voices yelling incoherently at you.

You halted, looking between each of them as you sputtered your confusion. You gestured with your knife towards Strider, who now stood with his hood down and his hands up in a surrendered gesture. You narrowed your eyes in a glare as you noticed the amusement in his eyes. You looked towards the hobbits again, a brow raised in an expression that demanded an explanation. Frodo began,

“He says he knows Gandalf-“ 

“-Oh he  says ?!” You interrupted, your eyes shooting to Strider’s, disbelief written across your features. His own expression grew serious, his pale green eyes fixing you with a piercing stare that sent shivers down your spine. 

“They can no longer wait for the wizard. They’re coming.” His voice was smooth and not as deep as you had been expecting with a slight accent that you couldn’t place. You scanned him, taking in his rugged features. He seemed honest, you couldn’t deny that. And his general lack of threatening actions was also a sign he was not going to hurt the hobbits. Still, he was suspicious. You shifted your weight to one leg, put your free hand on your hip and pointed at him with your knife.

“And how do you know what’s coming?” No sooner had the question left your mouth than the cry of the Wraiths sounded from outside. He peered at you with a raised brow, stating,

“It’s not hard to tell.” Well then. You huffed before dropping your stance and pocketed the knife. 

“And I don’t suppose you want to help?” Striders answering grin was all the confirmation you needed.

————————————————————

“That,” you stated, listening to the agonizing cry of the wraiths, “is the most painful noise I’ve ever heard.” You spoke quietly, and to no one in particular. The hobbits were sleeping, and you weren’t particularly inclined to converse with the strange man sitting in the chair across from you.

He kept his eyes to the Prancing Pony Inn across the street where the wraiths had entered, no doubt looking for the hobbits. Their shrieks were confirmation of that as they realized their targets were nowhere to be found. 

Strider’s eyes flicked towards you where you sat perched on the ledge of a window overlooking the street. He remained silent, once again casting his eyes towards the street.

You took time to survey him. You had no doubt this man was a Ranger. His long unkept hair, growing stubble, and dirty ragged clothing all suggested someone who lived in the wild. You weren’t much better off yourself. In fact, you never dared take your hair out of the braid that sat along your shoulder... it would be a disaster. 

You could tell he knew you were watching him. The same way you knew he had observed you after you told him your name and took up your current spots. That had been quite a while ago.

The wraiths screeching grew to an outright scream. Frodo, who you doubted had even been asleep in the first place, sat up as the other hobbits were awakened. 

“What are they?” Frodo asked quietly.

“Wraiths.” You answered. Strider looked to where the other hobbits peered at them from under the covers of their bed. 

“Not just any wraiths,” he began, “they were once men. Great kings of Men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question. One by one falling into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will. They are the Nazgul, Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring. Drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you.” As he finished, the hobbits settled back into their bed, their eyes wide and faces full of fear.

You leveled Strider with a glare that meant,  way to go, Brood-y.  He only turned his head back to the street, you doing so as well with a sigh. You sat like that for what seemed like years, watching the Nazgul leave the tavern before leaving the area. Quiet fell over the night. You breathed another heavy sigh through your nose and leaned your head back against the wall. 

Finally breaking the ongoing silence, Strider cleared his throat and hoarsely whispered,

“You should get some sleep. We won’t be resting for a long time after tonight.” Raising a brow, you countered,

“What about you?” Squinting your eyes, you peered at him as he turned his head to look at you. 

“Or do you not sleep?” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he affirmed,

“Oh I sleep. But judging by the bags under your eyes,” he nodded his head and pointed to your face, “it’s been a while since you have.” Point taken. You sat motionless for a moment, simply staring at the man who stared back at you. 

Pursing you’re lips, you lifted your legs onto the windowsill and leaned your head against the wall again. Closing your eyes, you murmured,

“Rude.” Before allowing yourself to drift off. Sleep had always come quickly and effectively to you when you allowed it. You fell asleep to the quiet huffing of a laugh from the ranger sitting across from you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STRIDER!!!!! 
> 
> This has been so much fun to write


	4. The Journey Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You begin the long trek towards Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that thing people do when they watch a movie and then they make their own character and insert themselves into the story? Yeah that’s basically what this is. This is my character on her journey with the Fellowship! But, this is your journey too. Have fun bickering with Strider!

You were up before dawn broke. The windowsill you slept on being surprisingly comfortable compared to the cold hard bed of the wilderness. 

Strider was still perching at the window. A glance in his direction proved he was keeping his eyes on the world outside your small room.

Stretching, you looked behind you at the hobbits who were still happily asleep. Even Frodo had finally found rest. 

Good, you thought. He won’t be getting much of it anymore. 

Sliding off the windowsill, you crossed the room to gather the supplies you had dumped the night before. Cutting through the silence of the morning, Strider quietly said,

“We should leave soon.” Pausing, you turned on your heels to face him. You countered,

“We should wait for the Sun to come up.” He didn’t deign to look at you before answering,

“If we set off now, the Sun will be rising as we leave the village.” Placing your hands on your hips, you asked,

“And where exactly do you think we are going?” 

“Rivendell.” You scoffed,

“Over my dead body.” Finally, he turned to you, a lightly exasperated expression on his face.

“Alright then,  Brethil , where is it you plan on taking them.” He called you  Brethil. 

“ Brethil ?! Is that Elvish?”, you hissed. Giving you a smirk before turning back to the window, Strider answered,

“Sindarin, actually.” Oh that cocky shit. 

He had called you, ‘princess’. You would tell him you could speak it as well, but you could only tell him once, so you merely pressed your lips together and leveled him with a glare.

Looking up and out of the window, he gestured towards the horizon,

“Sun’s rising. It’s time to go.” 

————————————————————-

“Where are you taking us?” Frodo called to Strider. You all walked in a relative line, Strider in the front, you in the rear. It was a brisk pace he had set for the group. He called back,

“Into the wild.” That was true enough. The forest you were walking through was thick and getting thicker the farther your group walked. Merry looked to Frodo, 

“How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf’s?” In response, Frodo fixed his eyes on the back of Strider’s head and said,

“We have no choice but to trust him.” 

Merry apparently deemed this a worthy response as he turned his head back to the path in front of them. Now Sam spoke up,

“But where is he leading us?” You called to him,

“To Rivendell.” 

“The House of Elrond.”, Strider added. You let loose an exasperated sigh just loud enough to reach the Ranger’s ears. The hobbits had taken no notice as Sam turned to Frodo,

“Did you hear that? Rivendell! We’re going to see the Elves!” Frodo gave a light smile in response. 

Despite the excitement of the hobbits, you still did not believe Rivendell was the right place to go. It was a months journey, and, to be entirely honest, you didn’t trust the elves. Bad pastexperiences and such. 

On the other hand, you had no other ideas. So for now, you followed the Ranger ahead of you. 

Lost in thought, you hadn’t noticed the hobbits stopping. Glancing behind you, you watched them take pots and food out of their packs with raised brows. 

“Gentlemen, we do not stop till nightfall.” Called Strider. Pippin stopped and looked to the Ranger,

“What about breakfast?” 

“We’ve already had it.” 

“We’ve has one, yes. But what about second breakfast?” With a slightly pained expression, Strider merely turned on his heels and continued on the path. Pippins jaw fell open in shock. Merry said,

“I don’t think he knows about second breakfast, Pip.” Alarmed, Pippin faced Merry.

“What about elevesies? Luncheon,” he turned to Frodo, “afternoon tea,” he turned to Sam, “dinner,” he turned to you, “supper?!” Finally, he turned back to Merry and exclaimed,

“He knows about them doesn’t he?” With a tone of mild disgust, Merry answered,

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Merry once again started walking the path, leaving a frightened looking Pippin in his wake. He turned his wide, pleading eyes towards you. 

It took all of your willpower not to bust out laughing. You gave Pippin a pitying look and shrugged before turning towards the path. 

Just as you took a step, an apple flew over a tree and hit Pippin square on the head. Now, you actually did laugh. He looked up, completely bewildered, as if expecting more apples to fall from the sky.

“Pippin!” Came the impatient cry from Merry.Pippin scurried to reach his side once more, and you took up your place in the rear as the amused Sam and Frodo fell into line. 

It was going to be a long month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found the transcript for the movie. Very helpful for the dialogue.


	5. Amon Sûl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are a young woman Ranger who travels through the wilderness of Middle Earth. You are not very well known, and you plan to keep it that way. There was no need to draw attention to yourself. One day you come across a couple of Hobbits who seem to have gotten themselves into a bit of trouble. Curiosity and chivalry get the better of you and you decide to help them reach Bree and go on your merry way back to isolated traveling. At least, that was the plan before being sucked into a journey across Middle Earth with newfound friends on your way to Mount Doom in order to destroy an evil fiery eyeball named Sauron.
> 
> Follows the plot of the movie with slight canon divergence.
> 
> Posting new chapters every Wednesday:) (or whenever I feel like it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that thing people do when they watch a movie and then they make their own character and insert themselves into the story? Yeah that’s basically what this is. This is my character on her journey with the Fellowship! But, this is your journey too. Have fun getting to Weathertop!
> 
> I know I haven’t posted in a while. Rest assured I am still very invested in this story... I’m just busy lol. But I have COVID right now so I’m not doing anything for two weeks and now is as good a time as any to get back into this. :)

6 days passed. Strider had been right. None of them were getting enough rest. Each night was spent alternating guard duty between you and Strider. Or as you called it, babysitting the Hobbits.

During your watch, one of the hobbits would inevitably wake, complaining of nightmares and general fears of your journey ahead. You would talk through the dreams with them, and assure them that you and Strider would keep them safe. You didn’t mind it as much as you let on. From what you could tell, neither did Strider. 

The hobbits as well as Strider lied in a circle around you. Trees surrounded the clearing you were in, and you sat on a slightly raised rock, poking a stick into the dirt. Needless to say you were quite bored.

You heard the telltale rustling sounds of blankets being moved. This was usually followed by a hobbit sitting next to you and talking with you.

This was not the case tonight. Quiet footsteps drew closer to you. You didn’t need to look up to see who it was.

“You can sleep more. I’m not tired.”

“Well neither am I. Two sets of eyes are better than one,” came the rasp of Strider’s voice. He sat next to you.

“What are you drawing?” He asked. You observed the lines you had made in the dirt.

“My interpretation of the complexity of the human thought process and the problems that arise from such.” He leaned in closer to your dirt art and muttered,

“Really?”

“No. I was scribbling,” you confessed. He leaned back and met your eyes, his expression utterly unreadable. You blinked and cast your eyes towards the ground.

“I figured we should stop at Weathertop tomorrow.” You didn’t look up again as Strider asked,

“Why? It is out of our way. It is not in our best interests.”

“No, but it’s in mine. And the hobbits. Amon Sûl has a long history. I’ve always wanted to see it.” 

“It will disappoint you. It is ruins.”

“So you’ve been?”

“Yes-“

“Well... I’ll make my own opinion when we see it.” He leveled you with an exasperated expression, but you could see in his eyes he had already conceded. There was silence between the two of you before he spoke up again,

“What is it about Amon Sûl that makes you want to see it?” You mumbled something about not wanting to see it  that  badly but answered louder,

“It’s history. Very important...” your sentence trailed off into a yawn despite your attempts at stifling it. He gave a small laugh and his eyes once again cast to the ground. 

“Sleep. Tomorrow, we head for Amon Sûl.” 

———————————————————————

There was a couple hours of walking left to get to Weathertop, but as you crested a hill, it became visible in the distance. Strider had been wrong.

It was in ruins, but the great base of the old fort still stood. Even at a distance, you could make out some of the pillars that surrounded the base. It reminded you of something but you couldn’t quite place what it was.

The hobbits had stopped in a cluster to the left of you, dropping their bags and sitting on the ground in an effort to ease their heavy breathings.

Strider came to a stop next to you, his arms crossing as his gaze swept across the landscape.

“I told you it was ruins.” He grunted. You merely shook your head before quietly saying,

“It may be ruins... but it still stands. Not as tall as it used to...” you were silent for a moment before it clicked and you remarked, “it looks like a crown.” Strider turned his head to look at you, an unreadable expression falling across his face. 

“A crown?” He asked.

“You don’t see it?” He looked towards the ruins, his eyes squinting. 

“No.” With his blunt statement, Strider turned to the hobbits.

“We must keep moving if we wish to reach the fort by nightfall.” You rolled your eyes at his lack of creativity. Turning around, your eyes met Frodo’s. He glanced at Strider, who was already picking his way down the slope towards Weathertop. 

He gestured as if to ask, “what’s up with him?” And you shrugged in return. Then, just to see if you could make the young hobbit smile, you stuck your tongue out to the back of the grumpy Ranger. 

You succeeded in your endeavor, as an amused smile was now gracing Frodo’s face. 

“I saw that!” Called Strider as he continued to walk away. Now Frodo was fully grinning. You scrunched your face in confusion and indignitly yelled back,

“You did not, you liar!” 

“Then how did I know?” 

“You-“ you cut yourself off as you genuinely couldn’t figure out how he knew. Now sulking, you stomped your foot and started down the hill, the hobbits having already done so during your exchange with the Brute. 

You were beginning to think his reputation as “Strider” was more accurate than you thought.

———————————————————————-

It was, thankfully, a quiet night on Weathertop. 

The rest of the trek to the fort had been spent in mostly silence. The only sounds being the soft curses and brief complaints of the hobbits as they struggled to keep up with Strider’s pace. 

The hobbits had picked a camping spot along the twisting path to the top of the fort, and Strider had parted with the group with quickly muttered, 

“I am going to have a look around,” and with a pointed glance at you, “Stay here.” 

He had also given the Hobbits swords. A questionable choice in your own opinion but you supposed it was for the best.

Choosing to ignore Striders remark to you, you wandered up the slope of the fort, safe in the knowledge Frodo was resting, and the others were at least trying to do so as well. 

Finally cresting the top of the incline, you reached the summit of the once great fort. 

You had been right... there was something special about this place. Your fingers began to prickle with a familiar sensation, and a smile ghosted at your lips. 

A special place indeed.

Scanning your surroundings, you idly walked to one of the pillars on the sides of the old tower. Despite the piles of dust that littered the ground, you could almost make out a pattern on the floor. An ancient decor that was now almost completely weathered away.

The same tragic fate had befallen the pillars. They had probably once been embellished with whoops and whirls of design... but all that was left was the ruins.

Once again, the depth of the history of the world you lived in weighed on you. 

Reaching your hand out towards the pillar, even the lightest of touches to the ancient stone sent sparks up your arm. 

But now was not the time for that.

Retracting your hand you closed your eyes and tried to image the fort in its prime. 

The battles that were fought here... the lives that were lost... the inspirations that were shouted at the legions from their leaders before a fight... 

It was almost overwhelming to think about. You lifted your head and once again scanned your surroundings. Breathing deeply, you looked out at the world beyond the fort, taking in the sprawling landscape that was just barely visible in the low light of the moon. 

It was then you noticed a small pillar of smoke billowing it’s way up from the inclined path of the fort. 

Of course. The hobbits weren’t tryin to rest... they were trying to eat.

Sighing heavily as you went, you started back down the path when you heard a brief commotion from below. You could barely make out the words,

“Put it out you fools! Put it out!” Cried Frodo. He had probably woken up to see the others cooking. You started walking faster. Then came the annoyed voice of Pippin,

“Oh that’s nice! Ash on my tomatoes!” Good to see he had his priorities straight. 

A chill ran down your spine and you stopped in your tracks...

The chilling screech of a Nazgul pierced the night. 

Now you were sprinting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the the main points about this series is that I’m never going to mention a name for Ranger (beyond Ranger but that’s just a title) and I’m never going to give a description of Ranger or what’s she’s wearing (except for the braid I mentioned and carrying a pack as well as eventually I mention a hood). Name her whatever you want! Picture her looking and wearing whatever and however you want! She’s YOUR character.


	6. A Battle in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are a young woman Ranger who travels through the wilderness of Middle Earth. You are not very well known, and you plan to keep it that way. There was no need to draw attention to yourself. One day you come across a couple of Hobbits who seem to have gotten themselves into a bit of trouble. Curiosity and chivalry get the better of you and you decide to help them reach Bree and go on your merry way back to isolated traveling. At least, that was the plan before being sucked into a journey across Middle Earth with newfound friends on your way to Mount Doom in order to destroy an evil fiery eyeball named Sauron.
> 
> Follows the plot of the movie with slight canon divergence.
> 
> Posting new chapters every Wednesday:) (or whenever I feel like it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that thing people do when they watch a movie and then they make their own character and insert themselves into the story? Yeah that’s basically what this is. This is my character on her journey with the Fellowship! But, this is your journey too. Have fun getting attacked by Nazgul! Again! 
> 
> Posting two chapters in one night?!?! I feel really bad for that long hiatus and I feel even worse knowing it will most likely definitely happen again. :)

You came to screeching halt as the four hobbits almost collided with you on their way up. 

You were about to speak, whether it was to yell at them for being stupid or to tell them to turn around, you didn’t know. But another ear splitting screech interrupted you. It was closer now. At the base of the tower. 

You prayed Strider was near. 

The hobbits had already unsheathed their swords. 

‘Good, at least they were prepared.’ You thought to yourself as you drew your own sword. You pushed the hobbits past you towards the top of the fort — higher ground.

Your legs pumped as you ran up the slope of the fort. You slowed your pace to ensure the hobbits stayed in front of you. 

Glancing back as your crested the top, you accidentally ran into the group of the hobbits as they came to a halt with a cry.

The Nazgul were already at the top. 

You catapulted forward, sword raised and voice crying a battle call. The nearest Nazgul to you slashed his own blade towards you, and your weapons met with a clash.

Your arms sang with the metal of your sword from the blow. 

You drew your sword back and slashed lower, but it was blocked by the wraith. 

Another wraith joined its brothers efforts. When one slashed, you parried, when the other drew back, you attacked. It was like a dance. A deadly one. 

Briefly slipping your focus to see how the hobbits were faring, your heart fell. Not good.

Sam’s sword lay scattered a distance away. Merry and Pippin still had theirs bravely brandished, but you knew it was to no avail. 

You called to them, but your lapse of attention led your attackers to double their efforts and you leapt back in surprise as the tip of a blade almost caught your mid section. 

Finally, Strider crested the edge of the fort and came to the hobbits rescue, swinging his sword and a torch alike. 

Ah. The Nazgul didn’t like fire. You almost smiled.

Attention turned back to your own fight, you saw both Nazgul grip their drawn back swords. You swung your own in a wide arc as they stabbed towards you simultaneously, successfully blocking both of their blows. Using the momentum, you twisted on your heel and swung all the way around to gain momentum, and you slashed across both of their chests. They both stumbled back, clutching their chests, screeching loud enough to make your ears bleed. 

With room to breath, you lowered your sword, and finally let the tingling sensation in your hand grow. 

Smiling lightly at the Nazgul as your hand began to glow, you focused on centering heat into your palm. A warm flame sprouted, dancing along your hand and illuminating your surroundings.

“I always had an affinity for fire...” you remarked before thrusting your hand forward.

Flame shot forth, catching the Nazgul on fire and off guard. Once again, they screeched, and finally began retreating. Drawing your hand back and turning your attention to the other wraiths, you allowed the flame to grow, and it danced along your fingers as well, blazing brighter than Strider’s torch. Taking notice, the Nazgul backed away. 

With Strider on the other side of the tower, also brandishing his torch, the Nazgul had lost the battle. They slinked off the sides of Weathertop, their withered screaming fading as they went.

Slowly, you breathed. You let the cool air fill your lungs, and cool the flame now tapering off from your hand. 

As it finally extinguished and the tingling faded, you faced Strider. 

But he wasn’t looking at you. His attention was on Frodo who...

Oh no. 

Panic gripped you. He was lying on the ground, gasping in pain. You rushed over, kneeling by his side. 

“He’s been stabbed by a morgul blade.” Strider held the blade out for emphasis, and we all watched as it crumbled into dust in his grasp, your own heart crumbling as well. He glanced up at you, a silent exchange befalling the two of you. No he could not heal him. No you could not heal him. To the hobbits he spoke,

“This is beyond our skill to heal. He needs elvish medicine. Hurry.” You and Strider gripped Frodo, and pulled him over your shoulders, sharing the weight. Sam’s worried voice called to your backs as you began quickly making your way down Weathertop,

“We’re six days from Rivendell. Hell never make it!” Strider remained silent. You didn’t have an answer either. You knew the best you could do was hurry... and hope for the best. A broken whisper came from Frodo,

“Gandalf...” again he cried, “Gandalf!” 

‘Curse that wizard!’ You thought to yourself. ‘He should be here.’ 

“Hold on Frodo.” Called Strider as you reached the base of Weathertop. The hobbits had stopped at their campsite to quickly pack up. You and Strider waited at the bottom, Frodo still hung in between them. A tense silence held before Strider broke it by muttering, 

“Do not think I didn’t see you use magic.” 

“This is not the time, Strider.” He grunted his agreement with your statement, an understanding coming between the two of you that you would talk about it later. 

The hobbits came hurrying around the bend of the fort, their supplies collected. Turning, the lot of you headed towards the path that led back into the woods and once again made for Rivendell. This time... with haste. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter but so much action! You have magic!!!! WHAAAT. Well I guess you already knew that but now Strider knows too! What happens next?? Find out next week... on... Fellowship, of, theeee riiiiing! Or watch the movie it’s been pretty faithful so far.


	7. A New Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are a young woman Ranger who travels through the wilderness of Middle Earth. You are not very well known, and you plan to keep it that way. There was no need to draw attention to yourself. One day you come across a couple of Hobbits who seem to have gotten themselves into a bit of trouble. Curiosity and chivalry get the better of you and you decide to help them reach Bree and go on your merry way back to isolated traveling. At least, that was the plan before being sucked into a journey across Middle Earth with newfound friends on your way to Mount Doom in order to destroy an evil fiery eyeball named Sauron.
> 
> Follows the plot of the movie with slight canon divergence.
> 
> Posting new chapters every Wednesday:) (or whenever I feel like it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that thing people do when they watch a movie and then they make their own character and insert themselves into the story? Yeah that’s basically what this is. This is my character on her journey with the Fellowship! But, this is your journey too. Have fun saving Frodo!

It was a tense couple of days. You barely rested. When you did, it was for the hobbits benefit. 

They did not complain. The urgency of the situation was not lost on them. 

Frodo’s condition grew worse by the hour. You knew you were making steady progress to Rivendelle, but the forest around you began to blur. It felt as though you were walking in circles, barely creeping towards your destination.

With every step you took your heart grew heavier. Frodo was suffering. With his eyes cloudy, his mouth practically foaming, and him groaning in pain, it was hard to watch.

Words were rarely exchanged and when they were they were brief and to the point. 

It was a tense couple of days. 

Darkness had fallen but you stopped for a brief reprieve, you and Strider laying Frodo gently to the ground. Sam knelt beside him, laying a hand across his brow. 

“Mr. Frodo?” He received no response, “He’s going cold.” Merry and Pippin had sat down, their faces turned towards their fallen friend. Quietly, with his voice breaking, Pippin asked,

“Is he going to die?” Strider answered, his voice low and grave,

“He’s passing into the shadow world. He will soon become a wraith, like them.” He pointedly looked into the darkness of the forest around them. Leveling Strider with a warning glance you looked at Pippin,

“No. He will not. We will get there in time.” Your voice was steady, and set with determination. Pippin met your gaze, your assuredness easing the worry in his eyes.

Your heads all shot up towards the woods as there was a cry in the distance. The cry of a Nazgul. 

“They’re close...” whispered Merry. A tense silence followed. Strider broke it, 

“Sam, do you know Athelas plant?” Sam looked cofused,

“Athelas?” 

“Kingsfoil,” you supplied. Sam looked towards you.

“Kingsfoil. Uh... that’s a weed.” Strider explained,

“It may help to slow the poison. Hurry.” With that, Sam scampered off into the woods and a quick glance to Strider told him you were following, and you stayed close to Sams back. 

“Do you know what it looks like, miss?” Sam asked you when he noticed your presence.

“No I don’t. I just wanted to keep you company.” 

“Oh... Oh! Found some!” Sam dove to the ground and began to pick the weed. 

A metallic groaning sounded a ways away from you and a silence settled over your body. Looking in that direction you spotted your Ranger friend knelt on the ground, with a dark figure towering over him. 

You were already stalking closer, gesturing for Sam to stay still. The tell tale glint of a sword being held under Striders chin caught your attention. You moved faster, careful not to make noise. A feminine, almost melodic voice teased,

“What’s this, a Ranger caught off his guard?” Your sword already half drawn and a couple of steps from the attacker, you stopped when you noticed the quirk of a smile across Striders lips. 

His hand raised in your direction, his eyes meeting yours and saying,

“It’s alright,” the woman above him lowered her sword, noticing you, “Arwen is a friend.” 

———————————————————————

There was only two elves you had ever met you had actually liked. Arwen was decidedly not one of them. 

You had no particular reason for disliking her. Truly, she was beautiful. Long dark hair, graceful in every way, and pale skin that almost hurt your eyes to look at. She was kind too, introducing herself with a bow and politely asking your name. 

It was the way she carried herself, you decided. Like she was the most important being there. It bothered you. But it didn’t bother Strider, and that annoyed you more than anything else. 

Pushing your personal bias aside, you focused on the conversation being had back at the campsite.

“Who is she?” Merry asked, his voice dripping with awe as Arwen knelt down beside Frodo. She had breezed into the campsite, not even bothering to acknowledge the other hobbits. Sam whispered back to him,

“She’s an elf!” Arwen briefly assessed Frodo before looking up to Strider. 

“He’s fading! He’s not going to last. We must get him to my father,” she paused briefly for dramatic effect before adding, “I’ve been looking for you for two days.” Strider seemed to hang onto her every word, but you were growing more and more exasperated with the elf. You had questions, but Merry beat you to it. As Strider lifted Frodo’s lifeless body he asked,

“Where are you taking him?” All but ignoring him, Arwen still spoke to Strider,

“There are 5 wraiths behind you. Where the other 4 are, I do not know.” Strider motioned you to help him, and you made your way over to Arwen’s horse to help guide Frodo onto the steed. Facing Arwen, Strider spoke in Sindarin,

“Dartho quin perian. Rych le ad tolthathon.” He was telling her to stay with the hobbits while he rides to Rivendelle. Arwen responded,

“Hon mabathon. Rochen ellint im.” She claimed to be the faster rider, offering to take Frodo instead. 

“Andelu i ven.” Strider warned the road would be dangerous.

“Frodo fir. A athradon a hir, tur gwaith nin beriatha hon.” Arwen said the power of her people will protect her once she gets across the river. 

“I do not fear them.” Arwen spoke in the common tongue. You considered speaking, adding your thoughts. But you weren’t ready to reveal your knowledge of the elvish languages, and you agreed with Arwen anyway. Strider also seemed to concede, as he wished her good luck, and allowed her to mount the horse. She began to ride away when you called,

“Ride hard. And don’t look back.” She nodded to you, and spurred her horse forwards. 

Understandably utterly lost, Sam yelled to her receding back,

“Where are you going? Those things are still out there!” Strider bent down to Sam, putting a hand reassuringly on his shoulder before saying,

“Worry not, my friend. Arwen will bring Frodo to Rivendelle.” Merry and Pippin turned wide eyes to you, as if to ask for confirmation. 

You weren’t sure if you trusted Arwen yet, but you trusted Strider, so you confidently nodded back to them. Strider then stood and declared,

“We should keep moving. The wraiths are getting closer.” There were several groans and protests from the hobbits, so you added,

“We will rest during the day. They don’t like the sunlight.” This seemed to ease their complaints as they once again began their trek into the night, with you following close behind.

You only hoped that when you finally reached Rivendelle, Frodo would be there to greet you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry... I don’t like Arwen. She’s cool and all... but Im just not a fan. And poor Frodo. Dudes been through so much and we’re still in the first movie.

**Author's Note:**

> *Spending abnormally long amounts of time describing trees to channel my inner Tolkein*
> 
> One of the the main points about this series is that I’m never going to mention a name for Ranger (beyond Ranger but that’s just a title) and I’m never going to give a description of Ranger or what’s she’s wearing (except for the braid I mentioned and carrying a pack as well as eventually I mention a hood). Name her whatever you want! Picture her looking and wearing whatever and however you want! She’s YOUR character.
> 
> Seriously the amount of research that has gone into this would be enough to write a college thesis.


End file.
